Out of Hours...Her Ruthless Boss: Ruthless Boss, Hired Wife / Unworldly Secretary, Untamed Greek / Her Ruthless Italian Boss. Кейт Хьюит
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still for a moment, listening to the gentle whoosh of the sea only metres from their bedroom, the call of a macaw and the rustle of the palms in the breeze.
She glanced over at Cormac and tensed, expecting to see him awake and gazing at her with that sardonic knowledge in those glinting hazel eyes.
Instead she found him asleep, and she shifted carefully on her side so she could study him.
He was a beautiful man. In sleep, his face was softened, relaxed, his thick lashes sweeping his cheeks, his mouth, usually pulled into a frown or a scowl, now softened into a half smile. His hair was mussed like a boy’s. He had the beginnings of a cowlick, and it made her smile.
What had Cormac been like as a boy? She pictured him in a private-school uniform, prissy and pampered. It was hard to imagine. Perhaps his parents had sent him away to boarding school. That innate arrogance, the expectation of obedience came, she thought, from money. Money and power.
Her gaze slid downward. His chest was bare, pure sculpted muscle tapering to slim hips and powerful thighs, hidden only by a thin sheet.
He wore boxers, but she could still see evidence of his manhood and it ignited a traitorous heat inside her, just by looking.
What about touching…
She lifted a hand, stopped. She’d been about to touch his chest…to caress him.
Had she no shame? No self-control?
Then his eyes opened.
Suddenly Lizzie was aware of how close she was, her face inches from his, her hand poised above his chest. She dropped it back on to the sheet.
Cormac watched her, his eyes the colour of moss, clouded with sleep. Then the sleep cleared and was replaced with awareness.
Attraction.
They stared at each other, neither speaking, and Lizzie was conscious of how her body responded to just that look, her blood heating as if he’d stroked her with his hands instead of with his eyes.
Her hair fell forward, brushing against his bare chest, and Lizzie heard his breath hitch.
Still, neither of them spoke, neither of them moved.
She felt trapped by his gaze—trapped, tortured, tempted.
In a weekend of utter falseness, this felt amazingly real.
A bird called raucously outside and the shutter banged in the breeze.
The moment was broken. Lizzie saw it in the coolness that stole into his eyes, the knowing smile curving that mobile mouth.
‘Had a good look?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Lizzie said.
‘Change your mind?’
‘No.’ She gave a knowing smile of her own. ‘You snore.’
He chuckled disbelievingly and shook his head. ‘No one’s told me that before.’
‘I didn’t think your women stayed the night,’ Lizzie threw back, and he stilled.
‘No, they don’t.’ He paused thoughtfully, although something—not sleep—clouded his eyes once more. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever shared a bed with another person for the whole night before.’
‘Me, neither,’ Lizzie admitted, and he chuckled.
‘That I believe, my little virgin.’
She scooted off the bed and busied herself pulling clothes from the cupboard. ‘What are we doing today?’
‘Jan and Hilda are taking us over to the building site. We’ll talk shop while you ladies gossip, and then we’ll all head to the beach for an afternoon of sun, sand and surf. Tomorrow Jan wants to see our formal presentations.’
‘I really am just here as arm candy,’ Lizzie said with a shake of her head. ‘Whatever anyone says about family values.’
‘Delicious arm candy, at that,’ Cormac said. Somehow he’d sneaked up behind her while she’d been selecting her clothes and now he murmured in her ear, ‘If only I could have a taste.’
‘Don’t,’ she snapped, and he laughed.
‘You’re so easy to rile, Chandler. It almost takes the fun away.’
She turned around, one eyebrow raised. ‘Almost?’
He grinned, suddenly looking boyish and uncomplicated. If only. ‘Almost, but not quite.’
Lizzie grabbed the rest of her clothes and headed into the bathroom. She didn’t like Cormac when he was charming. Didn’t trust him. At his most enticing, he was also the most dangerous.
No, Lizzie realised, she did like him at his most charming—or even just a bit charming—and that was the problem. It would be so easy to succumb to temptation. To desire.
She climbed into the shower, let the hot water stream over her and imagined what that would be like. Feel like.
What would Cormac be like as a lover? Would he be commanding, authoritative, taking control with skilled, knowing hands? Or would he be tender, gentle, awakening her responses with a supreme confidence that didn’t need him to be in control?
Lizzie shook her head, suppressed a shudder. She had no business wondering about Cormac, what he was like as a lover, who he really was. Not if she wanted to keep herself—body and soul—safe.
Yet she was curious. Curious about sex, curious about Cormac. Curious about Cormac as a lover…and as a man. What had made him the way he was? What would change him?
‘The trouble with you,’ she told her reflection in the mirror as she towelled herself dry, ‘is that you’ve had no one to care about since Dani left. You’re just lonely and you want someone to fix.’
The realisation sobered her. Saddened her, too. For the last ten years she’d given her life to her younger sister, had poured her emotions and her soul into Dani’s well-being. She knew it was what her parents would have wanted, and she’d been happy to do it.
But now Dani—carefree, laughing Dani—was gone, happily tucked away at university, and at twenty-eight Lizzie was left wondering what to do with the rest of her life.
Whatever happened, the rest of her life, her personal life, would have nothing to do with Cormac, she told herself sternly. So her mind and heart and treacherous body had all better remember that.
She dressed quickly in white capris and a pale pink blouse—sleeveless, cool and elegantly simple. Since they’d be outside for most of the day, she caught her hair up in a loose bun, wisps curling around her face.
Back in the bedroom, she saw that Cormac had changed into khaki trousers and a dark green shirt that matched his eyes, deepening them to the colour of the jungle.
‘Don’t forget your swimming costume,’ he said, and Lizzie mentally cringed at the thought of the jade bikini the boutique assistant had chosen for her—two tiny scraps of shiny material and a bit of string. Suddenly the thought of Cormac—never mind anyone else—seeing her in it made her feel horribly exposed and vulnerable.
Reluctantly, she fished the costume out of her suitcase and packed it in a canvas bag with some sun-cream and a hat.
Outside the villa, two Jeeps had been brought around the drive to take them all to the building site. Hilda and Jan were in the first one, and Lizzie saw Geoffrey and Lara snag the back seats of their hosts’ Jeep, no doubt in an attempt to ingratiate themselves with the Hassells.
Dan offered to drive the second Jeep, as he was familiar with driving on the right-hand side of the road, and Cormac graciously agreed.
Lizzie managed a smile as he slid into the backseat next to her, his arm going round her shoulders in an easy, thoughtless manner that she knew had to be cunningly calculated.
She